


Continuous Output

by Vanamiya



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Coercion, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, the ship should be warning enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 06:18:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9371915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanamiya/pseuds/Vanamiya
Summary: “Perform well and I might even refrain from raising the quota for another month.”Pharma felt humiliated. Oh yes, pleasing Tarn would cause the already way too high T-cog quota to stay the same for a bit longer but there really was no way to know what would please Tarn enough.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first attempt at writing these characters as well as this ship. After working my way through most of the tag here on AO3 I came to the conclusion that i wanted to try my luck too. orz The result is this first piece that is more pwp than anything else. It was more experimental for me to see what it feels like to write them, if that makes sense. Now I can actually put some thought into my next attempts, ahahaha~
> 
> Also, I already posted this on tumblr but this version is a bit altered in some places because I actually wrote the first version while I was half asleep and then posted it without thinking and later I reread it and went. "No, that scene is stupid I need to change that." So here, have version 2.0!

Pharma felt full. Stretched almost beyond his capacity, really, even though this was far from the first time he had something of this size inside of him. Damn warframes and their proportions, damn them all straight to the pits.  
  
The slightest flickers of pleasure ran along his sensors, urging him to get more friction, build more charge, but no matter how much his hips twitched and the calipers of his valve cycled invitingly, the tank whose lap he was currently occupying would not move. Damn Tarn for always feeling the need to play games with him.  
  
“Now, you know the rules, Pharma.” The sound of his designation spoken in a low rumble caused a shiver to run down his spinal strut right into his interface equipment. He bit his lip, refusing to gasp. Tarn chuckled, obviously amused by his reaction. Was he not affected at all by a slick valve that practically begged his spike to push inside again and again? Sometimes Pharma wondered if he wasn't giving Tarn's willpower enough credit, not that this would help him right now. He was this close to whining and that would either amuse Tarn even further or annoy him, neither of which being a particularly desirable outcome. Pharma had no other choice but to play along it seemed.  
  
“Perform well and I might even refrain from raising the quota for another month.”  
  
Pharma felt humiliated. Oh yes, pleasing Tarn would cause the already way too high T-cog quota to stay the same for a bit longer but there really was no way to know what would please Tarn enough. They had played this game before and Pharma had always lost, angry with Tarn, the world, and himself for not having stopped the slow descent into the deepest pits of depravity when he had still had the chance.  
  
Pharma strained his thighs and started moving. It was a slow pace at first to get used to the spike that could very easily tear his inner mesh. It had done so before. He had been forced to fix it himself because he would definitely not let any of the Delphi staff examine this part of him since he would have to explain what he had shoved into his valve to even cause such a tear.  
  
Tarn stared at him but he didn't do much else. Pharma couldn't even hear the tank's fans over his own and it worried him. Like this, the quota would get raised for sure and he couldn't afford that.  
  
Despite the warnings appearing on his HUD, Pharma increased his pace. He practically impaled himself on the thick cord and a moan that was part pleasure, part pain and part desperation made its way past its intake. Somehow, it seemed like that noise had done the trick and suddenly, the low purr of Tarn's engine caused his entire frame to tingle.  
  
Yes, he could get off to this. Pharma didn't restrain himself anymore, not that he ever needed to when they were doing this in Tarn's quarters. The only thing he would have to expect was a rude gesture directed his way when the rest of the DJD saw him and Tarn wasn't looking. Though right now he couldn't care less about anyone, anything else beside the stretch in his valve and the heat that burned beneath him like a furnace.  
  
“Tarn,” he moaned, almost sounding tender, affectionate. As if this mech beneath him wasn't the bane of existence. He manipulated his calipers and the clenched with every upwards movement, reluctant to let the spike go and almost catching on the ridges if not for the considerable amount of lubricant leaking from within Pharma. It spilled from his valve and turned not only Tarn's spike but also everything around it warm and slippery.  
  
Up, down. Tarn's spike hit every single one of his inner nodes without effort, without even doing anything. Just the spike was enough to drive him mad with desire and desperation but the rumble of the engines and Tarn's electromagnetic field, heavy and dominant and all consuming, was what pushed him over the edge way too soon, way too suddenly. He gasped as the charge around him dissipated and his valve twitched and spilled even more fluids.  
  
Damn his own body for not being able to resist Tarn. Damn him for having gotten so used to this kind of interface that even the thought of anything else seemed undesirable. And now he would have to somehow get even more T-cogs until next month. He hoped Tran would only raise the quota by one or two. Not five. Five would be impossible.  
  
Tarn chuckled, a rumbling sound that went straight into the spark, just like every sound that came from his vocalizer.  
  
“My, doctor, I did not know you were quite this... eager. Perhaps you deserve a break.”  
  
And just a moment later, Pharma found himself on his back, spike still sheathed withing him. Tarn's idea of a break was, apparently, to pound him into the new age because just like that, the tank started thrusting and all Pharma could do was to release a long groan.  
  
He was tired but he knew Tarn wouldn't care much for that until he had his own overload. Pharma had no other choice but to ride the waves of charges that encompassed him like a blanket. A heavy blanket that set every single one of his sensors afire. It was inevitable that his own array would become interested again beneath the onslaught of sensations.  
  
Tarn's thrusts were hard and deep but he kept his pace even, as if to prove that even in a situation like this, he had complete control. Sometimes Pharma was tempted to point out that he could just as easily control his T-cog addiction if he wanted to. But Tarn didn't want to Pharma didn't want Tarn to want to.  
  
The day Tarn was healed from his condition, he would appear right in front of Delphi, raze the facility to the ground and kill Pharma himself. That was what his nightmares suggested. The other, perhaps even worse, possibility was that Tarn would destroy Delphi but take him with him, make him his plaything and handy medic. Pharma trembled, though whether it was from the strain or from the images in his processor playing out in great detail, he wasn't quite sure.  
  
Tarn overloaded and took Pharma with him. Normally, Pharma would still have needed a bit to get there again but oh, how versatile that cursed voice of his was. One simple word, his name, was enough to make his spark spasm and spill a different kind of charge into his whole frame. He was helpless, unable to do anything but accept it.  
  
When it was over, Tarn took a few moments just to watch him. He had started doing that quite often during their more recent encounters and Pharma wasn't sure whether to be worried. Well, more worried than usual.  
  
“Clean the mess you caused. When you're done, you will be escorted to the exit.”  
  
This particular phrase usually meant that Tarn would tell one of his freakish lackeys to throw him out into the cold where he would have to fly all the way back to Delphi on his own. Still, there was one other thing he needed to know.  
  
“The quota?”  
  
Tarn got up and looked ready to leave, most likely disappearing into his washracks while Pharma would be left to clean himself with a simple rag. Sometimes he would be invited into the washracks, too, though that usually led to even more interfacing and Tarn had had enough for now, obviously. Pharma couldn't see it but it sounded like he was grinning behind the mask.  
  
“Ah yes, the quota. Why don't you surprise me during our next meeting?”  
  
No. No no no. That was bad. That was perhaps the worst possible answer. It meant that Pharma would fret about it every day from now on, not knowing whether or not the quota was raised, and when the day of their meeting came, he would lose no matter what he did. If he brought the same amount of cogs and Tarn decided he wanted to have more, Pharma would get punished. If – by some improbable miracle – he managed to procure more cogs and brought them, Tarn would tell him that, if he had managed to bring so many this time, he surely would have no problem bringing the same amount next time as well. Either way, there was no way to get out of this unscathed.  
  
Tarn was gone. Pharma needed to get up and get all that sticky goo off him. His valve ached. He would soon have to fly through Messatine's harshest terrains. And no one cared even a lick about what he was enduring to keep Delphi running.  
  
Pharma would get up. In ten seconds, when he was done pitying himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading all the way to the end! Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Have a nice day and stay tuned for more of this ship in the future! (hopefully)


End file.
